Wings of Midnight Black
by AnnieSand16
Summary: Dean returns to the hotel to accidentally walk in on Castiel cleaning his wings. Fluff. One Shot.


Dean had to stop to catch his breath.

Castiel wasn't even aware that he'd entered the room which was surprising, but provided an amazing opportunity.

The enormous wings fluttered slightly as Cas rubbed a cotton cloth over them. He paused slightly and used his long fingers to ruffle through a few inky black feathers to pluck out an unattached piece of down.

Dean had never seen them before. He'd seen the shadows and the general shape of them, but never the real things. They were magnificent. When Cas moved their surfaces seemed to shimmer and sparkle, even under the dim light. Dean had never thought it would be possible for something to look so damn beautiful.

Suddenly Cas' head snapped up. His eyes flashed with embarrassment momentarily. "Dean. I did not hear you come in. Just a moment," he stammered as he began to fold the wings in and put them away.

"No! No, don't mind me!" Dean stammered. He didn't want Cas to put them away. Not yet.

Cas looked at him with those ocean blue eyes. "Well. I was only just starting…" he muttered more to himself than to the hunter sitting on the opposite bed.

Dean grabbed the leather-bound journal from the edge of the nightstand and pretended to occupy himself while Cas resumed his grooming.

As soon as Cas was once again occupied, Dean watched him out of the corner of his eye. Cas dipped the cloth in a bowl of water on the edge of the table and softly ran it down each individual feather of every layer, pausing to clean the cloth every once in a while. His concentration was incredibly intense, and he made sure that not a single inch of the appendage was missed. After Cas finished cleaning them, he ruffled them softly with a hand on either side, getting any loose down feathers out while simultaneously fluffing the wing so that it would dry.

Dean had stopped pretending to read for quite some time now, and openly stared as the angel preened.

Cas eventually noticed. Confusion flitted over his features. "What is it?"

Dean flushed red. "What? Oh. Nothing."

The man tilted his head slightly, as if he knew Dean wasn't fully telling the truth.

"It's just…They're, they're black." It was a dumb thing to say, but it was better than blurting out exactly what he'd been thinking. _They're beautiful. _He decided to roll with it though. "I thought angels were supposed to have big, fluffy white wings. So, why are they black?"

"Some angels do have white wings. There are also those who have grey or brown or gold or even sometimes red… Think of it like hair color. Humans have a great amount of variation of hair color. It just depends on the person. It is the same way with our wings."

Dean nodded. That made sense. "Yeah, well, people can dye their hair. So, could you dye your feathers?" It was a stupid question, and Dean silently cursed himself for asking something so dumb.

"I am not sure I know to what you are referring to." Of course the angel would have no idea what Dean was talking about. He was too busy saving the universe to bother with knowing about tiny little things like that.

"Ummm. Well… Sometimes, humans, mostly women, use these chemicals and make them into a solution kind of like soap. Then they rub it on their heads and coat the hair in it, and after a while, once they rinse the gunk off, the hair will be a different color."

God, he sounded ridiculous. But Cas nodded with a thoughtful expression. "Oh…No, I do not think that it would work on my wings."

The room was quiet for a moment. Suddenly a breeze hit Dean's face as the wings flicked inwards and folded neatly against Cas' back. They were so large that their peak was a good six inches above Cas' head. It looked like he was suddenly trying to make them appear smaller. As if he was trying to hide them. He silently shuffles his feet on the floor as Dean fiddled with his sleeve.

"Is there something wrong with them, Dean?"

Dean looked up, startled by the quavering in the angel's voice. His brow furrowed in confusion.

"You keep staring at them, and you mentioned dying them…"

Dean immediately felt horrible. "No! No, Cas, they're great! Really!" They were better than great. They were perfect.

Cas still looked hurt and self-consciously tugged on a couple of the feathers at the very tips of the wings. God damn it. He was an Angel of the Lord, not a kicked puppy. He should not have been making that face. Dean sighed and crossed the room to sit next to him.

"Cas. Your wings are fine. I…I was staring because, well," he flushed scarlet as the words came tumbling out, "they're beautiful! I've never seen anything that amazing. And the dye thing, that was just stupid. I just couldn't think of anything else to say."

As Dean spoke, Cas' muscles relaxed, inadvertently causing his wings to droop lazily to the bed. Dean fought the urge to reach out and stroke one. His fingers twitched under the effort, and Dean had to quickly clasp his hands together in front of himself to keep the urge suppressed.

"Would you like to touch them?"

He swore Cas could read minds. He may have claimed he couldn't, but Dean seriously didn't believe him.

"Really?"

"Yes. But, please, be gentle. They are very sensitive," Cas said as he slowly unfurled them to where they lay fully extended behind Dean.

Dean cautiously lifted a hand out and delicately placed it on the thin bone at the top. The feathers covering it felt like expensive silk, only softer. He slowly ran a finger over the thick black feathers.

Castiel flinched a bit a first, but when eventually he calmed and relaxed under the gentle stroking.

The hunter's touch was so soothing that Cas couldn't help but close his eyes and hum with pleasure.

Dean smiled and continued his motions. His fingers soon found a long feather right in the center of the wing about three layers in that was loose. He slowly moved his hand up to where it attached to the bone and ever so slightly wiggled it.

Cas' breath hitched. Dean immediately pulled his hand away, fearing that he had hurt the angel.

"I'm sorry, Cas! I just-"

His apology was cut short by Cas reaching out and taking Dean's hand, guiding it back to the loose feather. "Please. It did not hurt. Please?"

Dean understood his plea, and resumed his attempt to release it from the limb. After a couple minutes the feather tugged free and Cas let out a sigh of relief.

Dean slowly twirled it back and forth between his index finger and thumb. With every flip it seemed to change color. Black, dark silver, navy blue, deep grey. Dean sighed and held it out to Cas in the middle of his palm.

Soft fingers pushed Dean's back over the feather. The angel's hand remained on Dean's for just a moment too long as their eyes met. "Keep it."

Dean's hand felt cold when Cas pulled his away.

"Thank you," he breathed as he stroked the feather in his hand. He marveled at the sheer beauty of the situation. He had been given a fucking feather from the wing of an angel.

Silence rang through the room as they sat on the bed together.

Suddenly, Cas reached out and pulled Dean close to him. The hunter let out a small yelp of surprise as they fell on their backs into the firm mattress.

"Cas! What're you doing?!"

The angel said nothing, but instead flicked his wings up over Dean and himself. He quickly settled them down into a warm blanket, layering the two so that they completely covered both of them. Cas then wraps an arm around Dean's shoulders and pulled him close.

"I am tired. I want to rest."

"But you don't sleep," Dean protested weakly. The angel was so warm, and Dean felt incredibly safe and secure nestled away beneath the huge wings.

"My vessel needs time to recuperate. Besides, you need to sleep."

Dean decided not to argue any more. As he slowly drifted off into the black edges of unconsciousness, he realized how incredibly right this seemed. It was like his body fit perfectly in the crooks of Cas'. He sighed contentedly as sleep claimed him.

Castiel watched as the human fell into oblivion. It was such a peaceful process compared to the man's normal routine. Dean normally tossed and turned for hours before finally surrendering. He hated sleep. Well, not the sleep itself, but the nightmares that came with it.

But this time, huddled against Cas' side, the hunter's sleep was clear and free of pain.

Cas smiled at Dean and ever so gently placed a tender kiss on the man's forehead.

"Good night, Dean."


End file.
